Never Look Back
by Silver Vixen
Summary: Duo's past is slowly becoming part of his reality and perhaps his future...can he turn away from a part of himself?
1. Chapter 01

Never Look Back  
Chapter 01  
Written by Silver Vixen  
  
  
The plastic crucifix swung from the rearview mirror, softly clicking unheard underneath the blaring music coming from the radio. The driver tapped his fingers to the beat of the song, softly singing along as he flew down the familiar highway. His eyes were hidden by dark shades but a smile seemed to permanently stretched across his face. His other hand was resting on a pile of assorted things, a picture of himself and other darker haired stoic looking young man, a pile of tapes by various artists, and a bunch of red roses.  
  
The young man turned off the highway into a small town. He stopped the car by a clean looking hotel with flowerpots hanging from the Southern style porch rafters. He reached his slim hand over to the tape player and turned off the music, popping the tape out of the player and slipping it back in its sheath. He opened the car door and stepped out with a slight swagger. He walked towards the back of his car and lifted the trunk, grabbing a duffel bag from within then closing the trunk behind him.  
  
He walked towards the hotel door, bits of his hair blowing out behind him in the wind. He stepped inside the door of the hotel, closing the door behind him and making his way towards the counter where a young lady was being helped.  
  
He looked over his sunglasses at her, being gay didn't mean he still couldn't notice girls, they always had the most interesting stories even though they held not much other worth to him. He liked to play a game, guessing where they where from and what they did by their manner and clothing. He was usually right.  
  
She wasn't a great beauty, her nose being a bit too small for her face and her muscular figure off balancing her stance but she had shoulder length light blonde hair that gave her a slightly golden glow. Some of her hair and been sectioned out and braided into small braids, other parts slightly curled around her heart shaped face. She had light blue eyes, reminding the young man of a certain blond Arabian he knew. She was wearing a slightly baggy pair of tan pants and a tight blue tanktop with a white painter's shirt spattered with ink stains on top, tied loosely at the waist. She had a worn leather bag slung over her shoulder, a camera peeking out of the top.   
  
The young man lit a cigarette, watching the young lady write a check and get her room key. She was a painter, he decided, a wealthy kid who received money from a great aunt or other since her parents had disinherited her. He spun the idea around in his head. It seemed like a good story and he stored it in his memory for use later.  
  
He gave the clerk the information he needed and received a room key. Making his way to his room, he opened the door quietly. He threw his duffel bag on the bed and rummaged around in it. Withdrawing a picture, he set it on the bedside table, smiling at the picture of him and his lover. He sighed and took off his sunglasses, rubbing a fist across his eyes.   
  
He had been up all night, driving his annual drive to this town. He set the sunglasses on the bedside table and rummaged around in his duffel bag again. He removed a slim bright red Apple laptop and attached the cables to a spare outlet on the wall. He set it on the night table and flopped on the bed, closing his eyes and slowly drifting to sleep.  
  
***  
  
He ran through the monastery halls, calling for Father. He tripped and fell on his face, hurting his knee. A nun came running towards him as he starting bawling, the tears streaking down his face in torrents. She picked him up and cradled him, using a bit of her black habit to wipe off his dirty face.  
  
His crying slowed, coming down to an occasional whimper or sniffle. The young nun smiled at him and helped him stand up again, walking with him slowly down the hall. He looked up at her with a big smile on his face; dark royal blue eyes glimmering and his tumbling fall forgotten.  
  
***  
  
Oh...I like this style...it's really cool! Yeah!  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 02

Never Look Back  
Chapter 02  
Written by Silver Vixen  
  
The coffee was black, no sugar, no cream, just the way the young man liked it. He drowned the coffee in one gulp and rose from his seat at the cafe table. He made his way towards the door with his signature slight swagger when he felt an itch between his shoulders, the kind you get when some one is looking at you. He turned and spotted a group of giggling teenage girls sneaking glances at him. He smirked; he got this everywhere he went even when he was hanging onto his lover.  
  
He decided to play along and lower his sunglasses, giving the girls a 100 watt smile and flipping his long braid over his shoulder, then strolling out of the cafe leaving a squealing mess of highschool girls behind him. He smiled; it was always amusing to see their reactions. He whistled a tune to himself, swinging his car keys on one finger, walking through the crowds with gracious ease. He glanced in the windows as he walked by, stopping occasionally to stop and look at something inside.  
  
He passed a brightly decorated window then went back for another look. He pressed his hands up to the glass; there was a painting in the window, a beautiful acrylic painting of something he held very close to his heart. It was a large monument, surrounding by trees in their fall colors, golds, oranges, and reds covering the base of the marble monument. The sky was light, the blue of autumn and the washed out watercolor blue of old blue jeans and faded ink. The artist had written their name in a curly script, the initials AR in the bottom right corner.  
  
He needed that painting, needed the piece of his past that existed in that artwork. He walked towards the door and opened it as a young lady pushed out, tripping over his feet and falling to the ground.   
  
"I'm terribly sorry!" exclaimed the young man, helping the girl up off the ground. He grinned to himself; it was the young woman from the hotel, the photographer.  
  
She gave him a big smile and dusted off her pants, as she leaned on his arm, "I'm alright and it was my fault. I wasn't looking." She winced as she put some weight on her left foot.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked, a bit concerned showing in his voice. Though he tended to act like a smart-ass most of the time he was quite caring and concerned at heart although he would have never admitted it aloud.   
  
"I think I twisted my ankle," She replied, clutching his arm tighter for support, digging her fingers into his arm, "Damn, how am I supposed to get back to the hotel?"  
  
"Don't worry, I'll take you back since I'm staying there anyway. It's the least I can do for causing you to do this," he grinned, swinging his car keys around on one finger, "Oh, I'm Solan."   
  
She grinned back, flipping her hair away from her face, "I'm Helen and thanks. I would really appreciate it. "  
  
"No prob. Just let me go buy something inside and we can go back," he said, making his way inside the door. She waited patiently as he stepped inside.   
  
A young sales man made his way through the shop towards him, wearing the trademark sales person smile, saying, "What can I do for you?"  
  
The braided young man pointed to the painting in the window, "I'd like to buy that painting in the window."  
  
The sales man nodded, moving towards the window and picking up the painting, "A fantastic work of art, especially for such a young artist as she is. I'll ring it up."  
  
They moved towards the sales counter, the young man taping his fingers on the edge of the desk as the sales man ran it up. He let his eyes roam the walls of the store, humming a tune to himself.  
  
The sales man looked up at him with a smile, "This is only one of a few of her paintings. She has a whole series she is going to sell us. Would you like some more information about when they will be on sale?"  
  
The young man blinked then smiled, "Of course."  
  
The computer bleeped at the sales man who looked at it, saying, "It comes to $150. You can pay with cash, credit, or a check."  
  
The young man reached into his pocket and withdrew a credit card from his wallet, sliding it across the counter towards the sales man.   
  
The sales man caught it and ran it through the process quickly, handing back the card and wrapping up the painting in protective layers of bubble paper and brown wrapping paper.   
  
He dipped his head in thanks and walked towards the door, opening it to the jingle of the bell hung over the top of the door and shutting it behind him.  
  
He smiled and held up the wrapped painting as Helen looked towards him, saying, "I'm done!"  
  
She smiled, "You are sure enthusiastic about life you know."  
  
He smiled and winked, "One of my few faults."  
  
She laughed as he stepped over to his car and opened the door, sliding the papers aside so she could sit. He leaned over the back of the seat and gently put down the wrapped painting, settling it so it would not be harmed. He then helped her into the seat, closing the door after her and making his way to the other side, dodging the traffic and swearing when a car barely missed him.  
  
He flopped in his seat, slamming the door behind him and gave Helen an encouraging smile before sticking the key in the ignition, making the car roar to life. He picked a tape from the pile by his feet and stuffed it into the player, turning on the player with a swift movement of his fingers. The song "Call Me, Call Me" from Cowboy Bebop blared from the radio and he turned into down, smiling at Helen.  
  
She smiled back, singing along under her breath and leaning one arm against the open windowsill. He pulled out of the parking place and made his way towards the hotel once more.  
  
*  
  
The church was dark, it was late in the night and the frightened little orphan boy was scared. He had the familiar nightmare again, the one full of blood and screaming. It always frightened him and kept him awake.   
  
His small feet padded against the stone floor, his scraggly teddy bear clutched tight against his chest. He whimpered as a dark shadow flitted across the little light coming from the stained glass windows. The small boy climbed the altar, silently walking across the worn red carpet. He made his way towards a large marble statue of Mary and the Baby Jesus. He looked up at them, both of them smiling down at him.  
  
His lip began to quiver and tears began leaking out of the sides of his big dark blue eyes. He reached out to touch the carved dress of Mary, running his hand down to the red carpet at the bottom of the statue. He sat and curled himself around the statue's legs, slowly crying himself to sleep, one arm clutching Mary's dress and the other around his bear.  
  
*  
  
Yeah...I forgot to mention. This has about seven parts (I think) and it is not quite done. I just forgot to upload the rest last night. Oops?! 


	3. Chapter 03

Never Look Back  
Chapter 03  
Written by Silver Vixen  
  
The young man unlocked his door, glancing at the nervous looking young woman next to him. He smiled, shifting the package under his arm to a more comfortable position, "Look, I'm gay you've got nothing to worry about besides you need that ankle looked at and I'm a certified nurse."  
  
She smiled in obvious relief, "You just hear way to many stories about girls being tricked."  
  
He laughed and offered her his arm, throwing his head back as he opened his door, flinging his braid off his shoulder, "Do I look like I'd molest anyone other than annoying telemarketers and cars salesmen?"  
  
She smiled and shook her head, "No, but I think any one would hurt those certain people."  
  
He nodded, helping her over to his bed, putting down the package, and walking towards the bathroom with long strides. He looked in the bottom cupboard for a first aid kit. Finding one, he brought it back out into his room, walking towards Helen. Helen was looking at the picture of him and his lover. She blushed red and put it down hurriedly as he sat down on the ground near the bed.  
  
"It's okay. I don't mind," he said, opening the kit and looking for the roller bandage. Finding it he took her foot in his hand and gently probed it for any interior swelling or bruising.  
  
She winced, closing her eyes a minute, as he wrapped the bandage around her ankle carefully, " Do you love him?"  
  
He looked up confused for a minute then looked at the picture by the bedside, his eyes getting a bit dreamy, "Yes, we've been together for a few years. He is kinda of a part of me."  
  
She nodded in understanding and moved her ankle around a bit, "Much better...thanks."  
  
He nodded with a smile, brushing a few strays bit of hair out of his face, 'No problem. You should stay off it for a couple days, elevate it when possible, and ice it ever so often."  
  
She saluted him with a smile, "Yes sir!"  
  
He grinned and got up off the floor gracefully, reaching out his hand to her. She rose and tested her ankle, putting a bit a pressure on it, blond hair falling over her face. She absentmindedly tucked it behind her ears, leaning on his arm for balance.   
  
They hobbled along the hallway to her room three doors down, Helen directing him as they went, their shoes muffled by the fluffy light blue carpet. The young man let go of her arm and she pulled a card out of her pocket, swiping it down the security scanner. The door beeped and she opened it quietly, stepping inside.  
  
She looked back out at him; "What about I meet you for breakfast tomorrow at Gabrielle's Cafe around nine? They have the best cinnamon rolls this side of Paradise and it would repay you for the help."  
  
"Sure," the young man answered, giving her an award winning grin and sticking his hands in his pockets, starting to walk back to his room. He heard the soft click of the door shutting behind him.   
  
He grinned, she had a story, he could feel it and it was his job to draw it out. It was his job after all; he was a writer on top of being a part time nurse.  
  
*  
  
A red haired boy flopped on the muddy ground, a stream of red blood flowing from his nose and mouth, his breath steaming in the cold winter wind. The other fighter, a slim braided boy of eight or so, wiped his hand across his face, warm blood staining his hand.  
  
The braided boy whirled around in a fighting stance, glaring at the other spectators who backed off, not wanting to fight the enraged boy. Slowly the crowd dispersed and the braided boy was left alone with the downed and bleeding red haired child.  
  
Bending down on one knee, the braided child lifted the other's head by his shirt collar, staring into the frightened boy's brown eyes.  
  
He smirked and let go of the boy's collar, letting him scrabble to his feet, rising from the ground as well. The red haired boy ran off, glancing behind him as he ran to make sure the other boy was not following him.  
  
As the boy disappeared, the braided boy looked down with slumped shoulders, making his way to a muddy school bag. Picking it up and dusting it off he slung it over his black priest like clothing and made his way down the road.  
  
*  
  
Oh I really love this style...a bit different from the more direct apporach I like. Does anybody else think Duo sounds WAAAYYYY to serious? Hum....maybe I should kill somebody to make him that way (MWAHHHH!!!! ahem...) Everybody knows I like to kill people off (maybe I'll kill Relena...^.^). Oh who knows...  



	4. Chapter 04

Never Look Back  
Chapter 04  
Written by Silver Vixen  
  
The alarm started its relentless drone of the early morning hours, the pounding monotony that drew the braided young man out of his deep, dream filled sleep. He slapped the bedside table, fumbling for the clock for a few seconds before finding it and hitting the off button. He lay on his bed, hands crossed behind his head, for a few minutes, looking up at the pale blue ceiling.   
  
The dreams had returned, the memories this town brought were to great, to powerful to try to ignore. The force that brought him here year after year was relentless, not unlike the alarm clock. He sighed and rolled himself out of bed, walk sleepily over to the large mirror outside the bathroom, rubbing his eyes with one hand, covering a yawn with the other.  
  
He blinked tiredly at his reflection, reviewing his features. The reflection was scruffy, its long braid coming apart and dark priest like clothing crumpled. His dark blue eyes were almost black and had bags under them from little sleep. He yawned again and looked at his watch with bleary eyes.  
  
"It's 8:00 already…argh…" he sighed, making his way into the bathroom. He shed his crumpled clothing onto the floor, exposing a slim figure marked with the white lines of scars along his back, sides, and chest.   
  
Tugging the hair tie out of his hair with one hand, he reached over with the other to turn on the hot water. He tugged his braid out of its sections so it fell down his back in shimmering, rippling waves of brown and gold. He stepped into the shower and let the hot water course over his body, closing his eyes and letting the heat envelop him.  
  
He dumped a full container of hotel shampoo onto his head, working it into lather throughout his long hair. Rinsing the shampoo out again he slowly cleared his mind of thoughts, relaxing and letting his mind wander into nowhere. After finishing rinsing his hair he stood under the water, gradually relaxing his muscles and tendons until he felt completely at ease and calmed.   
  
He had learned how to relax his body and mind until he no longer needed to breathe. In his previous line of profession faking you were dead could mean life or death.  
  
His thoughts wandered over the past years of his life, how he had started his own business with Hilde as his partner, how she had gotten married, how they had worked together, and how he had finally realized his true feelings for Heero. It was strange almost to be thinking of these things now when the past mattered so much.  
  
He turned off the hot water and stepped out of the shower, being careful not to slip on the sudsy tub. He shook his head like a dog, splattering water droplets everywhere. He grinned at his bedraggled reflection in the mirror and stuck out his tongue in a moment of silliness.   
  
Wrapping a towel around his waist, he walked back into his room, rummaging around in his duffel for a new set of clothes. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a cotton T-shirt which he pulled on. Running his fingers through his hair, he braided it swiftly, his fingers flying in the familiar patterns he knew so well. Pausing only to grab his car keys he sailed out the door, leaving the room in silence once more.  
  
*  
  
The boy slowly slid his finger over the precipitation on the glass, leaving a streak of clear glass behind. He continued to draw shapes, square, circle, rectangle, and star, then stopped when he ran out of room on the window.   
  
He sighed and stood up, moving a few feet to the left and plopping down once more. He began his task again, square, circle, rectangle, star, then stopped again. This time though, he let his fingers slid down the glass, leaving tear like streaks that exposed the pouring rain outside. He then pressed his cheek against the window, his breath fogging the glass again.  
  
Silently, in the darkness of the Church a lone nun watched him continue his monotonous drawing. She slipped out of the darkness and walked to the small figure in front of the window. Leaning over she gave him a hug that practically enveloped the boy in her black habit. He raised his cheek from the window and slipped out of her arms to walk to the next window.  
  
He sat and began with the square once again, then looked up at her and gave her a smile that broke her heart.   
  
*  
  
tum tum tum...ACK! I burned my pizza! (I'm making dinner...or should I say burning it...). Darn it...T.T 


End file.
